She seems sort of lost.' I thought, Lost how? How am I lost? Suddenly I felt lost.

Up until that moment, I'd been at the earliest stage of love, when you feel it will turn you into the better person you want to be. Now, his gentle voice and sage advice took me to a later stage: I felt I needed to pretend to be a better person than I was so he'd keep loving me. This was hard because it made me hate him.

The only relationships I haven't wrecked right away were the ones that wrecked me later.

It scares me how fast I go from disliking to loving him, and I wonder if it’s this way for everyone.

But then you hear that he can't hear you, you see that he can't see you. You are not here--and you haven't even died yet. You see yourself through his eyes, as The Generic Woman, the skirted symbol on the ladies' room door.

I feel in some ways I've had a difficult life. And it makes me the kind of writer I am, in what I value, what I respect, what I hold dear.

You have to shrink yourself to fit into this little life with him.